Last Summer
by Rokutagrl
Summary: A short, somewhat sad/sweet HamaIzu/HMIZ. Because there really isn't enough of this pairing.


Author: Rokutagrl

Title: Last Summer

Pairings: HamaIzu

Warnings: Bad writing?

A/N: Just a weird HamaIzu I cooked up in the middle of sleep cycles and school. I hope it makes sense XD

:X

Last summer, your back was always facing me.

On the bench I could only watch your windup. You never looked my way.

"It's a shame the coach doesn't let you play." You say as we walk home in the same direction. Though, you're ahead of me and never look around. I've memorized every stain in your uniform from here.

"You have a lot of talent. He just wants to play the older kids, because some of us won't be playing baseball in high school."

I take it for granted that by 'us,' you don't mean you. But I'll find out later, you do.

"It's okay." I'm glad you don't see my face burning. "I don't mind."

"I've always admired the way you play!" She practically yells in her awkward, tweenage way. She's even a year younger than me. I only feel somewhat sympathetic. She _is_ a girl, after all.

"Ah." I wonder if you're smiling, or upset, or gracious. I won't know unless you look at me.

From here, though, I can see her face. She's almost turning into a plum—that's how red she's become. I already knew she liked you. The whole school does. You just thought it was a rumor until now, and I wish it still were.

"And, uhm… Well, I've always l-l-liked you!" She's hopeful that you'll agree to go out with her. It's painful, sitting here and hoping you won't.

"Please accept these chocolates, Hamada-senpai!" She begs of you.

My heart tightens. My eyes feel wet with the tears that will haunt me for the next couple of hours.

I'll leave before you tell her your answer. It'll be negative, and I'll rejoice over it later, but right now it's too painful to hear you say anything. Because no matter what you say to her, hurts me twice over.

"Yes;" I've lost you.

"No;" the same rejection meant for me.

I leave the Valentine's chocolates on the stairs. Your name is on them, so maybe you'll find them, maybe you won't. I hope you do find them. I spent three hours baking the whole batch.

But you'll never know who they're from. I'm not telling.

Especially not now.

I'm so angry with you! I can barley keep from trying to hit you! If you just turned your stupid, smug face my way I'd knock you into oblivion with my fist!

But you only sigh and repeat yourself, "I'm attending Nishiura High School."

There's no sports scholarship for that school. It's only twenty minutes away by bike, and it's decent academically. But you were the one who taught me all I know about baseball—after practice in your room until fatigue wiped us out. I'd wake up an hour later when my father lifted me back home.

At least you're not moving away with your family, Hamada. That would be the end of me. But you're_ still_ leaving.

Nishiura doesn't have a baseball team.

I, and that girl, will never get to admire your wind up again.

We'll no longer be able to play baseball together. Doesn't that bother you? Don't you care about your stupid underclassmen at all? I've been following behind you all this time...

"I can't play anymore," is the answer to my why. "This elbow and I, aren't meant to play anymore," you correct yourself, nursing the half injured appendage.

The evil side of me hopes it hurts.

I feel abandoned.

And your back is still to me.

But we're together, Hamada, still playing baseball. You're only on the side cheering for us; it's still wonderful to hear my name on your tongue. The crowd yells louder at your prompting.

You never asked why I came to Nishiura, when there was nothing here for me. That talent you spoke of, that I worked to polish… What was the point if I couldn't play again?

But I was lucky. Abe-kun and Sakaeguchi-kun made it possible. And Momoe and Shiga-po, too!

I was so happy—_too happy_—to think we could play again on the same team. You refuse to try, though. You declined treatment and cajoling… It's a rejection, Hamada, no matter how you turn the tides.

My heart breaks and this blood burns just thinking about it all.

I crack the ball to center field and run as fast as I can. I don't turn around. But you do, because I can feel your eyes on my back. That's more than I deserve.

This summer, I'll let you chase me.


End file.
